


Start Again

by valhallamarie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Also might be mentioned as "she", Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky gets his plums, Bucky is a little in love too, Bucky never goes into Cryo, Cell Manipulation, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Holding Hands, Making Dinner, Oops, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Racially Ambiguous Reader, Reader Has Powers, Reader has boobs and a vagina, Reader is Sassy, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tags added as story progress, Unrequited Love, Wine, hopelessly in love, not sorry, reader is a wine addict, so much wine, steve loves pasta alfredo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-16 11:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valhallamarie/pseuds/valhallamarie
Summary: You've been friends with Steve Rogers since you helped him come out of the ice. Now, he's asked you to push your limits and free his best friend, James Buchanan Barnes, from the bonds of his past.(*On Hiatus*)





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is mainly setting up the actual story, seeing as it is the prologue for all intents and purposes. Little to no dialogue (seriously, there are only three sentences of dialogue). I'm desperately trying to avoid using "Y/N" and "Y/E/C" and the like, I find it jarring and just weird when I read other stories. I'm not really going to use those, if at all.

**One**

 

     You first met Steve when he came out of the ice in 2011. Sixty-seven years frozen in Arctic waters took a toll, even on his super soldier body.

     His cells had been badly damaged and, while his body wasn't decaying, his body's healing abilities had been neutralized by his time in the ice. You'd been able to jumpstart his cells and, hours later, his body thawed out.

     SHIELD had kept you on a retainer, of sorts, to check up on Steve once a month and after every mission. You had certain... skills that no doctor could provide.

     Nothing had ever been out of the ordinary, out of  _his_ ordinary, but you still saw him once a month to asses his cells.

     Eventually, Steve started opening up to you. It was little things at first. You'd make a pop culture reference, laughing, and he'd shyly admit that he didn't know what you meant. After the fifth incident of ignorance, you'd bought him a trio of little black books and filled two of them with everything you thought he should catch up on.

     You'd dropped them off on his doorstep in a boring beige box, along with a note that read:

      _So we have more than your cells to talk about next time._

    And the next time he saw you, he'd asked you if you'd have a movie marathon with him. When you'd hesitated, he quickly amended his intentions, explaining that he'd better understand it all if someone were there to answer his questions.

     It had been a bit of a stretch, but you'd let it slide. You could tell that he had simply been trying to ask you to hang out, but didn't know how. Besides, he was a genuinely nice guy and those were hard to find these days.

     The movie marathon had quickly turned into dinner and conversation after your stomach began rumbling incessantly during the third movie.

     You, being the wine addict that you were, had brought a bottle of your favorite year of Merlot. It was empty long before you left.

     When SHIELD had fallen in 2014, and you had seen the news footage of Steve and a man with a metal arm fighting on a bridge. You'd waited and waited for Steve to call, but then you saw the footage of the helicarriers being obliterated.

     After seeing footage of him falling into the water with the exploding helicarrier, you'd believed him to be dead. Part of you had refused to believe that he had died, but the rest of you mourned your closest friend.

     That was, until your phone rang months later and your phone screen displayed  _Unknown Caller_. You hesitated to pick up for a few seconds, but ultimately gave into the hope that it would be Steve on the other end.

     You had cried when his voice greeted you.

     After that call, you hadn't heard from him for a while and when you finally had, it was, essentially, him begging for your help.

     As it turns out, the man with the metal arm was his best friend, James Buchanan Barnes—or, as Steve called him,  _Bucky—_ and James was yet another victim of HYDRA. Your heart immediately bled for him, more so as Steve continued telling you the gritty details of the story.

     Within the next few hours, Wakandian government had been at your door and escorting you to a private jet that flew you in unreal time to a facility in Wakanda. The facility where you saw Steve, in person, for the first time since he drove you home from his place, after yet another  _movie marathon_. You also had the pleasure and honor of meeting King T'Challa, who was immeasurably kind and charismatic.

     Which led you to where you were now; standing in front of the most single-handedly gorgeous man you'd ever met, trying your hardest not to make a fumbling idiot of yourself.

     "I'm sure Steve already told you why I'm here." He hesitantly met your eyes and you almost stopped breathing.

     His lips pursed and he gave a little nod. "You're here to try and fix me." 

     With a small smile, you shook your head. "No, James, I'm here to free you."


	2. Prescribe Plums for Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four months later, you've settled into a routine with Bucky and his re-calibration, but your relationship starts to stray from friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, barely any dialogue, but I'm still setting things up so I'm sticking with it. Besides, Bucky's still healing and learning who he is after everything, so I feel it's appropriate.

**Two**

_Four months later..._

 

     "Again!" Bucky's voice was shaking, his skin shining with sweat, and if he wasn't laying down, you were sure he'd have collapsed.

     Shaking your head, you lowered your hands from his head. "James, you need a break." When he didn't relax, you continued, "I'm not asking."

     He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly relaxed, unclenching his fist and taking a deep breath. "Fine."

     One word, and your heart was racing more than it already was.

     You grabbed a couple water bottles and Cliff bars. It had become routine for you two since you started the re-calibration two months ago.

     The first month after you'd been brought to the facility, you'd taken the time to get to know him and, in turn, let him get to know you. He had to trust you, at least where your abilities were concerned, and that was something that took more than a few kind words and grand promises.

     You knew that trust was something Bucky had difficulty with, and, with everything he had been through, you weren't surprised. But trust was essential to setting him free of the Winter Soldier programming.

     You had to hurt him, bring him to extremes not even HYDRA had brought him to. It gave you no pleasure to put him through this, and Steve begged you to find another, but this was it.

     The programming was so deeply ingrained in him that reaching it, without killing him or making him brain dead, took nearly everything you had. Plus, the increasing emotional toll it took on you compromised your abilities and made it that much harder.

     "Here." You offered a bottle to him, watching him sit up slowly. He took it with a mumble  _thank you_ and chugged the entire bottle, as he usually did.

     The second month was spent doing analysis after analysis after analysis of his brain. You read things in him that no computer screen could ever hope to see. The analyses were painful, for you and him, but not nearly as painful as re-calibration.

     He eyed the Cliff bars with apprehension and you sighed, holding one out to him. "I know they taste terrible and I hate them too, but they're the fastest way to re-energize."

     Without a word, he took it and consumed it slowly and you did the same.

     The taste was pretty bad, but you had gotten used to it over the years. Though, it helped to eat something sour-sweet afterwards. Hence, the two plums you revealed when you'd both finished.

     Wakanda didn't have plums and it could have been any fruit, really, but the smile on his face was worth the trouble of outsourcing.

     "How do you have these all the time?" He questioned, taking a bite of the purple fruit. "I asked King T'Challa and Steve, but they said that plums don't grow in Wakanda."

     You shrugged, biting into your own fruit. "I have my ways." Bucky gave you a look and you laughed. "A small business in Romania and I made a deal."

     His eyebrows shot up. "That's a long way for fruit." He paused for a second. "So that's where you disappear to every Saturday morning?"

     Your heart skips a beat at the realization that he notices when you're gone, but you dismiss it immediately. He's a former assassin, of course he notices everything.

     "Yeah, I, uh, pick up the delivery at a park a few hours from here." You fidget with the hem of your shirt, not meeting his gaze. "I don't want to risk leading anyone back here... to you."

     He thinks for a moment, his eyes watching your fingers. "Why?"

     You do your best not to blush. "Well, I wouldn't want to trouble King T'Challa with armed forces at his door."

     He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "You know that's not what I meant."

     Your body was being set aflame, starting from where his skin touched yours. It was unbelievable how attracted you were to this man, and it wasn't even just how he looked.

     His entire being lit you up inside and you couldn't stop it. You tried, you tried so fucking hard to see him as just a friend, but it was impossible. In less than four months, James Buchanan Barnes had stolen your heart.

     "You like them." He smiled at your response, and you melted.

     "Thank you, doll."

     You were so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. Thanks for sticking around haha, I hope this lives up to your expectations. And again, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Please let me know what you think <3


	3. It's Hard to Handle Knives While Holding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader enlists Bucky to help make dinner for four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot more dialogue this time, and I think it turned out pretty good. Also, fyi, I'm in love with Bucky Barnes, too.

**Three**

 

"C'mon, I'm making dinner tonight and you're helping me." You pulled away from him with a small smile on your face.

     "I am?"

     You turn to face him, glad to see hints of a smile on his face, and grin. "Yes! I'm cooking for two super soldiers and Black Panther. That's a lot food and even more prep time."

     "You finally convinced King T'Challa to come?" His voice conveyed no surprise, but his eyebrows didn't get the memo.

     Looking over at him, you smirk. "I'm very good at getting what I want, James." It took you a moment to realize how sultry that could sound. "And, besides, he likes me."

     Bucky chuckled lightly and shook his head. "Everyone likes you."

     For the millionth time that day, your heart fluttered and you resisted the urge to curl into yourself. "Well... I like you, too."

 

* * *

 

     "Sit! I will not have you in my kitchen with your hair flying all over the place." You pointed to the stool in front of you. "Unless you can suddenly put your hair up with one arm."

     Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and sat. "You're even more bossy in the kitchen."

     You combed your fingers through his hair, one of your favorite things to do, and started pulling it together. "I learned  _that_  from my mother."

     His head tilted back a little and his eyes closed, his breathing soft. Neither of you said anything else; you didn't need to. His hair was silk between your fingers and the hum of the heating oven was comforting.

     With a second twist of the hair tie, his hair was secured and, unfortunately, you no longer had a logical reason to touch his hair.

     Bucky hummed his appreciation and turned around on the stool, looking up you with the start of a smile on his lips.

     You gave him a look. "What?'

     He shrugged and stood, moving over to the supersized refrigerator and opening it. "So, doll, what do ya need?"

     You thought for a moment, perusing the fridge's contents alongside him. Well,  _you_ were looking, he was staring. But you weren't paying enough attention to know that.

     "Mmm... how does Fettuccine Alfredo and some sort of salad sound to you?" You peeked up at him, holding a couple ingredients in your hands.

     "I don't remember ever having had that before, honestly." His eyes clouded a little bit and that was a surefire sign that he was thinking back to everything that had happened.

     You placed the ingredients on the counter and took his hand, breaking him from the reverie. His eyes flicked to where you were running your thumb back and forth over his skin. "You're in luck. My mama made the best pasta in town and I'm her culinary protegé."

     The corners of his mouth turned up and the warmth returned to his gaze. "'Made'?"

     "Let's just say the  _student_  became the  _master_ ," You boasted, smirking and trying not to laugh at yourself.

     He rolls his eyes and backed away from the fridge to the counter, not letting go of your hand. "Okay, okay, stop praising your pasta and let's get to making it."

     You faux gasped. "The day I stop praising my pasta is the day I am dead! Even then, my tombstone will tell glorious stories about my pasta!"

     Bucky laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound you've ever heard; and an even more beautiful sight. He tipped his head back, squeezed your hand ever so slightly, and laughed with his eyes closed.

     It almost made you go into shock.

     "You're ridiculous..." He didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was staring at you, making you blush softly.

     "And you love it, old man, so..." And then you did the most childish thing ever: you stuck your tongue out at him and he thought he that that was the cutest thing anyone's ever done.

     "Okay, c'mon. You said dinner's at eight and it's...", He check the oven clock, "... already six."

     You swore under your breath. "You're right, let's get cookin'." You went to open the drawer and grab a paring knife, but Bucky still held your hand captive. "Uh, James?"

     He was uncharacteristically oblivious today. "Yeah?"

     Smiling gently, you tapped his hand with your index finger. "As much as I'd love to hold your hand all night, you can't help me and hold my hand." He looked down and released you.

     "Sorry, you have cold hands." He almost looked bashful.

     You chuckled softly and shook your head. "No, you just have incredibly hot hands."

     The double meaning was not lost on either of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, isn't Reader a cheeky little shit? Haha, I love making my characters sassy. It's so much more fun to write.
> 
> I was thinking of making the next chapter the dinner table scene, but I might include a chapter of Reader and Bucky making dinner before that. What do you think? I could do both in one chapter, but make the dinner making scene shorter.


	4. Place Hands Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader does not appreciate Bucky's shenanigans, but it's all fun and games... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just to establish this, this scene takes place right after the last chapter (give or take), but, relative to the cryo-freeze post-credits scene, this story is currently taking place six months after that.
> 
> Also, I see Bucky having progressed further in his recovery, which warrants the use of "doll" and his fleeting moments/days of happiness/up beat-ness. Along with Reader's abilities, which are working as I'm pretty sure the story briefly mentioned.
> 
> So, if you were thinking that his character was OOC, that's my reasoning behind it. I wanted to kind of incorporate Bucky's old sense of self, seeing as he is regaining his memories due to no longer being brainwashed routinely. You'll see a lot more changes in him, and in Reader, but it'll make sense (at least I hope it will lol)

**Four**

 

     "Keep stirring! I won't serve mediocre Alfredo to the King of Wakanda because you keep getting bored, James." You scrunched up your nose and his eye roll and return to the chicken, making sure that it was cooking to perfection.

     "I got it, I got it!" He chuckled at your mild frazzled-ness and then smiled mischievously. "Hey, doll, what's in this metal flower lookin' thing, again?" You heard the soft clinging of thin metal and whipped around.

     The wooden spoon flew out of your hand and whacked him on the back. "For the fourth fucking time, it's chopped broccoli and that metal flower is a vegetable steamer. I've been inside your head and I know that your short-term memory is impeccable."

     Bucky made a face of pretend pain and rubbed at the 'wounded' skin. "I really think you got me that time."

     You weren't fooled. "Keep-"

     "Sirring, I got it!" He picked up the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir the Alfredo sauce and lazily stirred it around. "What happened to the encouraging medical professional from earlier today?"

     "One, I am nothing of the sort, and, two, in my kitchen there is no room for your shenanigans—or anyone else's for that matter." Your tone was stern-ish, but your serious face was broken by a smile. "Plus, do you know how many times I've cooked for royalty? Zero, James, zero times. It's a lot of pressure, friendship established or not."

    When he didn't say anything for a while, you turned to look at him again. He was doing just as you'd asked, stirring the sauce, but he wasn't really paying attention to it.

     His eyes were fixed on something ahead of him, glazing over as his mind wandered to a place you couldn't follow right now. It was good for him to let himself slip into that place. You had taken it upon yourself to be his positive distraction.

     "Something on your mind?" He looks up at that, the glaze fading.

     "Uh, it's nothing," He weakly assured, and it was the most unconvincing thing you'd ever heard.

     You set a timer for the chicken, deciding on ten more minutes, and turned back to him. "You don't have to hide from me, James. I... You don't have to pretend for me."

     Bucky tenses, the muscles in his back contracting under the stretched fabric of the red Henley he was wearing.

     "I know that you feel pressured to be the man that Steve remembers from all those years ago, but you can't be someone you're not," You pause, assessing his reactions. "You've endured more than anyone should in one lifetime and it's okay to have changed."

     He mutters something, but all you catch is your name.

     "James..." You place your hand on his bicep, taking the wooden spoon and setting it aside and removing the sauce from heat. "It is a goddamn  _miracle_ that you're still... Kind and compassionate and... _good_."

     Turning him to face you, you stared up at him and willed him to look back at you. "You have exceeded every expectation and I—"

     You're cut off as Bucky pushes you up against the counter with his brick wall of a body and grasps the back of your neck with his hand. In the sudden movement, your hand flew to his waist while the other remained on his upper arm.

     Both of you were at a loss for words, but you were positive he could hear and feel the stampede in your heart. Your lungs stuttered and your eyes were wide in anticipation.

     Bucky was searching your face, for what you didn't know, and his eyes flicked to your parted lips. He leaned forward, not close enough to kiss you, but enough for your foreheads to touch. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you could barely breathe.

     You wanted it so bad—wanted  _him_ so bad, but a small part of you remembered that he wasn't ready for that. The larger part, though, screamed at you to give in and close the distance.

     Then, he was gone and you were left gripping the counter, gasping as you caught your breath. Your skin was hot to the touch, but still you felt cold without Bucky's hands on you.

      _Beep beep beep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I did not expect that to come out at all. This was supposed to be a light chapter, but things don't always go as planned. Oops.
> 
> It took me a little longer than expected to finish this, but I'm glad I took my time because I love how this chapter turned out.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think and stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be the aforementioned dinner table scene.
> 
> <3


	5. Wine, Wine, and... More Wine!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve arrives early and friendship fuckery ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, unfortunately, no Bucky this chapter (I know I'm crying, too), but he'll return next chapter! I wanted to make this chapter a little more Steve centric because him and Reader are close.
> 
> Also, I'm nowhere near done with this story and I have no plans of letting it go unfinished! It will be done before summer's end (hopefully!)

**Five**

 

     Your hands shook as you set the table, still unsettled from Bucky's actions. It had turned you on at first, but it left your heart aching and worrying about him. Part of you was tempted to go check on him and make sure he wasn't slipping back into the _dark_ _place_ ,as you had termed it, but you thought against that idea. You could tell from his energy that he needed to be alone and cool off.

     Twenty minutes had past since he deserted you in the kitchen and you could still feel the incredible warmth of his hand on the back of your neck, and the hard planes of his body against you that came from hours of blowing off steam in the gym. The whirlwinds still raged inside your head, but, fortunately, setting the table was a mechanical task that had been instilled in you when you were young.

     Checking the clock, you saw that it was five 'til dinner time and hurriedly finished the table before washing your hands.

     As if on cue, the elevator dinged softly and out walked your closest friend.

     "Is that your mom's Alfredo recipe that I smell?" Steve's voice echoed throughout the large space and you chuckled, drying your hands on the hand-embroidered towel hanging on the oven handle. It read _W_ _ine gets better with age — I get better with wine_ and it was your favorite thing you mother had ever handed down to you.

     "Well, I am cooking for a King and one can never go wrong with pasta." You smiled as he approached you, kissing you on the cheek. "Plus, I thought that, with everything going on, and how much you love this recipe, you could use a pick-me-up." Looking away as you finished your thought, your eyes scanned the room and landed on your wine cabinet.

     "You're too good to me, kid." You shrugged and opened the cabinet.

     "It's the _least_ I could do, Captain." You bit your lip to contain your laugh. "I mean, you did save the world and all." His laugh triggered yours and you gave up trying to keep it under control.

     He traveled over to you, still bubbling with laughter. "You're so full of shit. I won you over with my dazzling good looks and charming personality."

     Your sides started to split as you laughed even harder. Sputtering through your giggles, you fired back, "Now, if only you would work that charm on interested parties." You sobered up quickly when he rolled his eyes, the movement reminding you so keenly of Bucky and, subsequently, of what happened earlier.

     "What's wrong?" Steve's brow furrowed and you instantly made to dissipate his concern.

     Shaking your head, you turned and pulled out a couple of bottles of wine. "Nothing's wrong." Deciding on one more bottle, you closed the cabinet. "I just saw the clock and realized what time it is." He knew that neither of you could see any of the clocks around your space from here.

     However, Steve had never been one to push you and he let it go. "Okay. What are you pulling out this time?"

     "Merlot, of course, two bottles of chardonnay, and the sparkling wine that I got from Helen last Christmas." You bit your lip. "But, you know I don't really drink white wine and I have no clue which one tastes better."

     Steve leaned a bit closer to the bottles and paused a moment to read. "Well, it just so happens I remember Tony's lecture on white wine." He handed you one and set the other down. "This one is a little dry, I'm pretty sure, and should go well with the Alfredo sauce." You giggled.

     "Look at you! You could be a suburban housewife!" You joked as you tucked away the rejected bottle of chardonnay.

     He smiled and shook his head good-naturedly, "Hey! I've seen those trashy television shows and their tastes in wine are terrible."

     "Not all of them drink wine," a light voice chimed, with a slight lilt that reminded you of T'Challa's thick accent. "However, the King is aware that you do, so he sends a bottle of his favorite wine in his absence."

     You and Steve both looked to see a woman clothed in a stark white pantsuit standing in the entry way of your kitchen. She was holding a bottle of wine, the letters of the label indistinguishable from where you stood, and a small envelope.

     You frowned slightly. "Absence?"

     The short, dark skinned woman nodded. "He sends his apologies, but a matter of national importance has come up that requires his full attention." She comes forward and hands you the items.

     "Okay, thank you." With your words, the woman dipped her head and departed from your floor.

     You looked down at the bottle and saw that it was a favorite of yours as well. "Huh, what a coincidence."

     Steve read the label and chuckled. "Either you have an expensive taste, or King T'Challa needs to refine his." You smacked him on the shoulder and stored the bottle, wanting to save it for when you could share it with T'Challa.

     "Hush and go unset the fourth table spot. Looks like it's just going to be the three of us."

      _This should be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Steve's a little OOC, but I like to think that Reader is the kind of person that everyone is a little bit looser and relaxed around. (Steve is a sassy bitch, too, fight me!)
> 
> T'Challa has more important things to do then sit down and have dinner, because being a King and the Black Panther is tiring and a 24/7 gig. He will make an appearance soon, though, I'm just not sure when.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! And thank you thank you thank you for sticking around for this! I'm literally just writing this to somehow quell my love for James Buchanan Barnes and I really hope it works this time XD
> 
> Much love <3


	6. Damned to Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve have a talk about Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still just filling my need to give Bucky Barnes the help and love that MCU didn't give him enough of. Oops?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Or don't, I'm not your mother lol.

**Six**

 

     A part of you didn't expect Bucky to come back for dinner and, after twenty minutes of waiting, you thought that that part of you was going to be right.

     You and Steve waited ten minutes before digging into the food, both of you agreeing that he probably needed to be alone for the rest of the night—which wasn't uncommon—and you had at least two glasses of wine. Though a part of you still held out hope that he would get through it and make it to dinner, you were starving and in desperate need of sustenance. Using your abilities like you had earlier that day took a lot out of you and you needed to refuel, and the cliff bars were more short term energy than actual refueling.

     "Are you going to tell me what happened?" Steve questioned hesitantly. He was keenly aware of the growing tension between you two, but he never really pushed the issue because Bucky seemed happy, happier than he'd been since before the war.

     You were tempted to feign ignorance, but decided against it. Steve was the closest thing you had to family now. "I think that our most recent session brought up more memories. It had to have done so, seeing as I went deeper than I had gone before." Sighing, you thought carefully about your next words. "He'd been distracted and distant, so I tried my luck and pushed a little bit."

     Steve studied you for a moment, his eyes catching the way your hands trembled as you reached for your wine glass and the way you shifted slightly in your seat. Your eyes flicked up to him and he sighed. "There's more, isn't there?"

     Biting your lip, you set down the glass and ran a hand through your hair. "He's exhausted, Stevie. It's been months and I'm still missing everything. The brainwashing is so deeply ingrained in his mind and every time I think I've found the right piece, it slips right out from under me. He's not... It's so, _so_ complicated and hurting him like this is _killing_ me."

     You really didn't want to tell him about almost kissing his best friend.

     "Has been cooperating with the therapist?"

     You shrugged your shoulders at his question. "I have no idea, but I hope so. I've never met them and I don't ask him about it."

     Steve shook his head and took a bite of chicken, chewing and swallowing before he spoke. "Should we be asking?"

     That made you pause. You had no clue. "Maybe, maybe not. I see a lot in his mind during our sessions, but that's all past memories because of where I'm prodding around." Your face contorted in pain at the thought of all that's happened to him. "It's dark stuff, Stevie, and I can only relate up to a point."

     You could tell that this was hurting him, too. He grimaced and his shoulders sagged. "I just want to help him get back to who he is."

     "We have no idea who that is. He's not your Bucky from the forties and he's definitely not the Winter Soldier." You chose your next words carefully. "The unimaginable happened to him and he's never going to be the same. Sure, he'll recover and get better and find himself again, but the last thing he needs is the pressure of being someone he isn't."

     The guilt splayed across Steve's face like spilled ink on newsprint. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the ding of the elevator.

     Hope flared in your chest and relief, mixed with anxiety, washed over you as you both watched Bucky enter the dining room.

     He smiled hesitantly with his lips together. "Sorry I'm late. I fell asleep and..."

     Your face was overtaken by a smile and you motioned to the space to your left. "Glad you could make it."

 

* * *

 

     Steve was called out from dinner half an hour later and left with little explanation.

     As soon as he left, anxiety started to build up in your chest and the tension in the room was thick, too thick to be cut by a knife. Bucky was silent as he ate, and you mimicked his silence as you nearly finished the half filled bottle of wine. The questions that lingered in your mind kept trying to force their way out, so you kept your mouth shut in fear of them spilling out like water through a broken dam.

     When you both finished, you stood to clear the table and Bucky followed suit. This wasn't the first time you'd had dinner together and, apparently, neither of you had forgotten your routine.

     You cleared your place and he cleared the rest while you scooped out leftovers into Tupperware containers and loaded the dishwasher. It was seamless and just a silent as dinner, save for the occasional clink of dinnerware and the hum of the dishwasher.

     Turning to your left, you found Bucky leaning against the counter adjacent to the refrigerator and realized there was nothing left to distract yourself with. He was looking at the floor, hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, and a few rogue hairs slipped out from behind his ears. Your breath hitched and you had to force yourself to regulate your breathing, slowly calming your body.

     You had no idea what to say, mostly because you didn't have a clue as to what happened earlier, but your mom always used to say this thing about hugs.

     So, you approached him slowly and reached up even slower. His eyes watched you closely and widened a little when you tucked the stray hairs behind his ears again. You searched his face, looking for any signs of him being uncomfortable. Finding only confusion and nervousness, you offered him a small smile and wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head against his massive chest.

     His chest expanded, stuttered and then deflated against your head before he gripped your with his arm and buried his head in the crook of your neck. You felt him inhale gently, slowly, as if he were afraid that you would pull away.

     But you didn't; You would never. If he would have you, you would stay like this forever. He was warm and a tad bit soft despite his rigorous workout sessions. Plus, he smelled better than anything you've ever smelled before and it was intoxicating.

     Wetness against your shoulder brought you back from your thoughts and you were confused for a moment, before you realized what was happening.

     Squeezing him tighter with one arm, you brought the other to the back of his head. "It's okay to cry, James." You stroked his hair softly, terrified that he would pull away, wipe his face, and leave. "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

     His grip on you doubled as his shoulders shook and his knees buckled. You went down to the floor with him and settled on his lap, letting him hide his face against your neck as he cried.

     It broke your heart to see him in pain, especially knowing that he'd been drowning in it so much so that a hug brought him to tears. You knew that kind of pain very well, and you still knew it, but you kept it all in a box where it belonged; where you needed it to be.

     So you said nothing. You would do anything for this man. You'd let him use you however he needed to, or wanted to for that matter, and, if he decided he didn't want you anymore, you'd let him leave you.

     If this was what love was, you loved him endlessly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this broke my heart a little, but in a good way? I don't know.
> 
> What I do know is that I will definitely continue to break hearts (especially my own) and the worst has yet to come. Sorry (I'm really not sorry, I enjoy writing angst because... reasons, i have no idea why)
> 
> Leave a comment telling me what you thought and please stick around if you want more of this crap :)
> 
> Also, to those who have been supporting me: Thank you so so much, it means the absolute world to me! I adore interacting with you (the readers of this garbage) and I'd love to do it even more <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you stick around because I have big plans for this story haha. Constructive criticism is always welcome <3


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